


Seven spoiled shirts

by domino_deshicko



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magic, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26373121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domino_deshicko/pseuds/domino_deshicko
Summary: The story begins right at the moment when Jace and Clary step into the portal to return to their world, and Magnus stays in his. The 10th episode of the first season.
Relationships: Alternate Clary Fray/Alternate Jace Wayland (Shadowhunters: This World Inverted), Alternate Magnus Bane/Alternate Alec Lightwood (Shadowhunters: This World Inverted), Alternate Simon Lewis/Alternate Isabelle Lightwood (Shadowhunters: This World Inverted)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	1. The first shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Seven shirts — seven chapters

The blue flashes of magic fade, and Magnus exhales contentedly, sensing the flow of power in his body. A purple fragment, held in hand, burns the skin, but now it is not the main problem. All he needs to do is close eyes and focus on making a portal until a cute couple in love wakes up. Hands draw a circle, sapphire streams of magic obediently follow graceful fingers, but the fabric of space remains intact. Another try, the excited voices of Jace and Clary are getting louder. The last desperate hand pass ends with the same result, and Magnus accepts his situation: there is no easy way to get out of this place. So, he needs to destroy all the evidence. A click of the fingers evaporates the demon’s body, and only the piece of the portal remains, and the others can identify Clary’s pendant in it. An avalanche of energy hits the small crystal, making it shine with the light of a thousand amethyst suns. Magic leaves the body, empties the small reserve, but Magnus made a promise, and it means he must protect this world. The last effort and the oversaturated fragment shatters into millions of brilliant sparks that cover all objects within a meter radius with spangles. They put cotton wool in his ears and set a cloudy glass in front of his eyes, cutting him off from the outside world. His own body loses contact with the brain, and Magnus slowly falls on the floor, trying to catch his breath. A red whirlwind flies past him, and then someone’s hands try to pull the stubbornly resisting body to its feet.

“What the fuck did you do to us?” Jace shouts, but the glittering guy in his hands can not focus. His head shakes from side to side, and a goofy smile spreads across his face.

“What’s going on here?” Alec appears out of nowhere and looks surprised at the tearful Clary, her surly as a bear boyfriend, and Magnus Bane, who can now successfully replace the disco ball at any party.

“This is what we are trying to get from this jerk. I noticed Clary took his hand and dragged him into the basement, I followed them, saw they were holding hands, and this asshole was persuading her to cheat on me, and then some kind of garbage started. First, the scary motherfucker with fangs appeared tried to kill me. My girlfriend hit him like the spirit of Bruce Lee possessed her while this hero escaped. And then fifteen minutes were completely erased in my memory. I woke up with Clary. She also doesn’t understand what is happening. She doesn’t even remember how she gets there. I thought we dreamed it, but then we heard a pop, and I found this happy idiot who was covered with sequins. And he refuses to tell what he has done. Clary says she does not know this strange guy. Who is he, and how did he get at the party?”

“This is Magnus Bane. I let him in,” Alec says it very quietly, taking a few steps forward and literally grabbing Magnus from Jace’s hands. “We need to calm down. Look at him. He is also hurt badly. Besides, you said that it was Clary, who took him to the basement.”

“I don’t remember this. I can only remember the whole day in flashes,” sobs almost drown out the words, and Jace gently hugs his girlfriend, who can’t calm down, and Magnus, meanwhile, begins to get over it gradually.

“Great, do you remember your name?” Alec is trying not to push too hard because everything that’s happened in this basement looks very suspicious.

“I’m Magnus Bane,” Magnus says slowly, while his mind is clearing because of the pressure of a massive wave of panic. The key is not to give himself away.

“What happened here?” Alec closely looks at the mysterious guest who caused a serious commotion.

“I don’t remember,” the words fly out against his will, but a sympathetic Clary’s look and an understanding one from Jace tell him that he chose the right strategy.

“Where am I? And who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” Alec frowns in frustration, and Magnus apologizes in his mind to all three of them for his deception. He shakes his head and releases his hand from Alec’s.

“I feel bad. I need to go home,” Magnus begins to notice the long-forgotten signs of magical exhaustion that threaten him to be out of the count.

“First, we have to question him.” Jace begins to move forward, and Magnus instinctively raises his hand, and then warmly thanks all the existing angels and demons for his almost completely emptying reserve. The last thing he needs is to beat this jittery blond with magic.

“You’re scaring him, Jace.” Alec stands in front of Magnus, hiding him from Jace. “Perhaps he is the same victim as the two of you.”

“The victim of what?”

‘How should I know? It was you who were here, not me. There are no cameras in the basement, so we can’t check anything. But, obviously, we all need to calm down. Is anyone injured? Are you all right?”

Clary nods sadly, allowing Jace to examine her, while Alec turns to Magnus for an answer and notices that he has become paler.

“The pendant is gone!” Jace’s loud yell distracts Alec from looking at Magnus. “He stole it.”

“What pendant? Purple?” Alec begins to recall the events of today. “Did you put it on to the party?”

“I don’t remember any pendant,” Clary looks from one man to another, trying to understand what they’re talking about.

“He definitely stole the pendant from Clary. We have to search him.”

“I don’t have her pendant,” Magnus carefully weighs the words. “I consent to the search, but I’d like to go home after it.”

He pulls off his jacket and throws it to Jace, who immediately begins to go through the pockets for jewelry.

“May I?” Alec reaches out his hand, and Magnus nods, letting the large palms, rub his shoulders, slide over his chest, move to his sides and freeze over his hips.

Alec looks into his dark eyes again, waiting for permission, and Magnus grins tiredly, wincing as warm hands gently touch his legs, then stroke his buttocks with imponderable touches and go down to the muscular calves. The inspection should be humiliating, but Magnus is so grateful to the man who cares so much about his feelings.

“Shoes,” Jace commands, and Alec glares at him so hard that all the other words are stuck in his friend’s throat.

“Please,” Alec asks again, and for the first time, Magnus doesn’t obey.

“I can’t,” he begins to explain his decision, but they don’t let him finish.

“I knew it!” Jace exults, and Alec lets out a weary breath.

“Jace, do us all a favor, shut up. What’s wrong, Magnus?”

“May I sit down? I’m afraid I can’t stoop cause I’m a little dizzy,” Magnus explains with embarrassment, and Alec immediately looks around for a chair.

“Come on,” Alec says, holding Magnus by the shoulders, then sits him down on a bench, and stops his attempt to bend over with the only one gesture. “I’ll take them off myself. Relax.”

He gets down on one knee, and large hazel eyes are right in front of the dark brown ones. Magnus immediately averts his gaze, feeling his cheeks begin to flush. This position is so intimate that only a couple of centimeters is between their bodies. Magnus forces himself to focus on the long fingers, which are quickly untying the lacing. A few excruciatingly long seconds and both boots are shaken out in front of Jace.

“I’m quite sure he stole Clary’s pendant,” Jace doesn’t give up, but Alec deliberately ignores him.

“Clary, is this pendant important to you?”

“I don’t even remember it,” says Clary, staring at Magnus. He seems to be loosely familiar, but it’s so difficult to catch this feeling. 

Alec carefully puts the shoes on Magnus and holds out the hand.

“I’ll take him home, and but you guys get some rest, both of you. Maybe something will clear up in the morning.”

Magnus grabs this reliable in every way hand, trying not to hang on it like a rag doll, but he succeeds badly.

“Step, one more, left, right,” Magnus persuades himself. “So much for a powerful warlock. It’s a good thing there are no more demons.”

They go outside, and Alec stops the taxi, following Raj’s disapproving look, who is once again convinced that the guard’s instinct never fails him. The nosy squirt, who was so desperate to get to the party, turned out to be an ordinary drunk. The way he is hanging on the boss makes it obvious he can’t stand on his own feet.

“No need to walk me home,” Magnus tries to pull away and hide behind a cold tone, but Alec hasn’t been impressed by such tricks for a long time.

“It is a bad idea. As a host, I need to make sure that all my guests get home safe and sound.”

“No”

“Listen, Magnus.”

“I said, No.”

The voice trembles, but Magnus doesn’t want to back down. No one should see his real eyes. The glamour is already beginning to fade. The crumbs of magic that held it are dissolving in the empty body, trying to fill the cells humming from overexertion.

“Well, what have you two lovebirds decided?” the taxi driver asks, and Magnus lowers his head.

“Please,” he whispers, and Alec bends to his will. There is too much despair in one word.

The door slams shut, and Magnus relaxes and puts his head back, hoping he won’t be get blackout. But the body holds out to the last minute, giving up only when the head touches the pillow.

But the next day, which begins in the late afternoon, blooms with bright colors of restorative potions and their amazing smells. After a couple of hours, Magnus decides that he is ready to try an interesting old recipe that requires a lot of effort and attention. And he copes with it with a bang. The thick creamy marsh-colored liquid with exactly the same smell squishes menacingly in the pot. Still, Magnus only smiles indulgently: the most challenging part is over, and the last important condition remains — to remove this time bomb from the stove. The White Book is open on the page with the description of an ancient spell, Meow purrs right next to the leg, Church tries to incinerate with his gaze, twilight draws down on the city, and magic circulates through the veins, dizzying with the promise of a pleasant evening.

But the Universe abhors the absolute perfection, so the sharp sound of the doorbell breaks the evening idyll, and, what’s worse, Magnus hears a Jace’s voice, insistently seeking a meeting. A snap of fingers and the almighty warlock is ready to receive an annoying visitor. But things are not going as planned when Magnus sees two guests. Alec smiles and frowns, catching the smell.

“Are you cooking something?” he asks, trying to get closer to the stove, but Magnus stands between him and his potion like a wall.

“What do you want? Have you decided to search the apartment too?”

“We decided to return your jacket and phone, and at the same time, ask if you remembered anything?” Jace manages a friendly smile cause he doesn’t want to quarrel with Alec, who very clearly explained this morning what tone should be used with this lunatic.

“Thanks,” Magnus takes his things, and then makes an imperceptible movement with his hands, watching with satisfaction as the almost colorless sparks rush towards his guests. “I don’t remember anything. The three of us must have been drugged. Someone’s stupid joke. That’s all right. We just need to try to be more careful in the future.

“Dude, this is the worst explanation I’ve ever heard,” Jace shakes his head, and Magnus groans, then rushes up to him and stares into his eyes. The magic, aimed at messing the minds of the two mundanes, was useless. Therefore, it can mean only one thing. Angelic blood is still there. Jace is a Shadowhunter, even if there are no runes on his body, and he behaves like a typical damsel in distress.

“I don’t always agree with Jace, but it’s really not the best strategy.” Alec moves closer, and Magnus looks at him, frozen in astonishment. One surprise after another. It’s true Magnus had doubts about Jace, but he hadn’t considered Alec at all. And it turned out that his new acquaintance is another Nephilim on the wagon.

“I think you’d better get out of here,” Magnus says, mentally asking himself to stay calm. But it’s so hard to keep emotions in check when the Shadowhunters that haven’t existed for several centuries literally barge into his apartment: first from another dimension, and now from this one.

“You know, man, you should go to the shrink. Judging by your behavior, you have serious problems,” Jace says it as he is an expert and persistently pulls Alec out of this apartment, stunk with some disgusting odor and away from this not normal in every respect man.

“Magnus, are you ok?” Alec decides to clear the air, but there is too much information for Magnus right now, so he shakes his head and walks his guests to the door.

“It’s all right, Alec. I just have a headache.”

As they go outside, Jace stops and shares his impression in a loud whisper.

“You know, there are people who’s got a screw loose. So, personally, I believe that this Magnus is their chairman. I don’t think we should have any business with him. However, it was clear from his advertising.”

They are leaving the house when Alec, who has been replaying the strange conversation in his head, comes to a dead stop.

“Jace, go home. I need to clarify something,” Alec informs his friend and climbs the stairs, smiling foolishly.

The door is unlocked, and Alec bursts into the apartment.

“You called me Alec,” he tells Magnus, who is discouraged by the sly smile. “If you don’t remember anything, you can’t remember my name either. I mentioned it only once when we met. So you lied.”

“Jace called you by your name,” Magnus tries.

“Nope. He didn’t”.

“Clary?”

But Alec shakes his head.

“You remember everything, right? Can you tell us what happened?”

Magnus lowers his gaze and takes a deep breath.

“I,” he begins to talk and then stops, because the potion, which has been quietly gurgling until this moment, champs with a playful smack, notifying its creator of his complete carelessness.

“Get down,” Magnus shouts, preparing to create a protective barrier, but Alec upsets the apple-cart, grabbing Magnus around the waist and throwing him to the floor.

The swamp-colored substance blows up all over the apartment, devouring matter in its path. As a result, the wall, into which most of the liquid has hit, resembles an ugly honeycomb. Alec looks closely at Magnus’s guilty face, noting at the same time how comfortable it is to lay on his body, but he has to ask his question:

“Are you a terrorist?”

“No,” Magnus says quietly, and for some reason, Alec believes him.

“Ok. I wouldn’t date with a terrorist,” Alec explains and gets up easily from the floor, holding out his hand to Magnus. And then he looks around.

“Are you sure you’re not a terrorist?” he decides to clarify, just in case and notices how Magnus begins to blush rapidly. “What?”

“Your shirt,” Magnus says lamely, pointing behind him.

Alec quickly takes it off over his head and whistles with excitement when he discovers two gaping holes. He carefully examines the ragged edges of the fabric, which seem to be charred, and sees an interested look that passes over his torso in the corner of his eye.

“You are so dangerous, Magnus. Anyway, you owe me a shirt and a conversation, so what about coffee and a friendly date?” Alec winks and cautiously walks around the blackened places. “Next Saturday at seven. I’ll pick you up. And please be careful with your chemistry experiments, Mr. Scientist.”


	2. The second shirt

Alec watches the paper napkin turn into a hundred tiny pieces and exhales wearily. This is the worst date of his life, even though it’s a friendly one. Magnus doesn’t want to communicate, doesn’t help at all, and seems completely uninterested. Alec rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers, realizing that he should have seen it from the very beginning. Wrapped in a hundred clothes, Magnus broadcasts with all his appearance where he sees dates, romantic cafés, and Alec himself to boot. And that is the strangest part. Confused at the Institute, embarrassed in the apartment, now Magnus is fenced off from him with an impenetrable wall. And if there weren’t a couple of shy smiles, Alec would have said goodbye and left for the club, so that with the help of cocktails and hot guys, he would forget about the man who intrigued him so much.

“How long have you been doing all these magical stuff?” Alec chooses his words carefully and purses his lips in disappointment when he hears a dry answer.

“Long ago.”

“Did you get this gift from your mother?”

The pain in the dark eyes burns, and the muffled voice is heavy with deep regret.

“From my father.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to talk about the painful subject.”

“It’s all right. We just had a bad relationship.”

“Had? Is he no longer with us?”

Alec mentally slaps himself in the face: who else could ask about this except for him? But a small chance to learn a little more about Magnus outweighs the rules of etiquette.

“He’s alive,” Magnus answers while his gaze fixed on something invisible out of sight ahead. There are so many memories that it’s easy to sink low in them. A loud laugh returns Magnus in reality, and he continues. “But he’s very far from here, and I hope he never comes back. My father has done so many bad things and evil that it would be better if he never showed up here.”

“We can’t choose our parents, but we can choose the rest. Where to live, what to do, who to communicate with.”

“Yes, nowadays, this world has become much more comfortable.”

“It sounds like you’re hundreds of years old.”

A sly smile blooms on Magnus’s lips, and Alec is ready to melt into the small lake of emotions. Who said this was the worst date of his life? It is definitely in the top ten, and if Magnus continues to smile so sincerely and warmly, Alec will be ready to revise his rating completely.

“I am just quite aware of history.”

A vague hand gesture and Alec freezes, looking at the magical graceful fingers.

“Alec, Alec, Alexander,” Magnus tries to reach out to the Shadowhunter, so he touches the large palm on the table and flinches from the small electric shock that runs all over his body, causing goosebumps.

“Ouch,” Alec cries out sharply with surprise, cause a few seconds earlier he was bewitched by the simple movements and the soft, almost purring “Alexander” that followed.

He involuntarily catches Magnus’s hand in his own and allows himself to enjoy the brief moments of intimacy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Magnus starts making excuses, but Alec just holds out his other hand, palm up.

“Nothing to apologize for, Magnus. It’s just static electricity. Give your other hand. We need to ground you properly.”

Alec lies shamelessly, but Magnus believes and puts his fingers in the left hand, waiting for the shock, but instead, warmth and calmness spread through his body, as if he finally found his place.

“See, it isn’t so scary as it may seem.”

“How do you know about electricity?” Magnus asks his first question of this meeting, and the genuine interest in his eyes tells Alec that he wasn’t mistaken in his feelings.

“My sister Izzy is a computer genius, just like her boyfriend Simon. They work with Valentine. You were at the company’s anniversary party. Val and I chose a theme, and then I translated our ideas into deeds. Did you like it?”

“I don’t understand anything about this,” Magnus admits, and Alec shakes his head reproachfully.

“The party was amazing. Trust me, I’m a professional. I asked if you liked it? We both know you remember everything, unlike Jace and Clary.”

The danger is too close. Magnus forgot Alec is a Shadowhunter, believed the big kind eyes, preferring not to remember that the only purpose of this handsome guy was to get the information. And for a few seconds, it seemed that he was genuinely interested. Although, what a man like Alexander could see in someone like Magnus.

“Magnus, listen.” Alec is acutely aware of the mistrust and fear. “I’m going to ask only one question, and it’s obvious to me what would be the answer. And we won’t talk about this again until you want to. Did you want to hurt Jace or Clary?”

“No.”

“Well, you see. That’s all that matters. I trust you.”

“Why?”

“Must be something in the air,” Alec jokes, but sees how Magnus shuts down again, avoiding a simple look and trying to pull his hands away. Alec has missed his chance, and Magnus won’t give him a second one.

Alec watches dejectedly as Magnus pays the bill, repaying the debt for the shirt, and then awkwardly says goodbye at the entrance to the café, turns around, and leaves. “Turn around,” Alec asks silently, but Magnus seems to be running away from him, and in the direction opposite to his house.

“I have to go away and forget this Shadowhunter. Maybe move somewhere in Latin America or Europe or Asia,” Magnus tells himself. A quick glance into the nearest alley. Not a single soul. So, it’s a good opportunity to use the portal. The main thing is to focus and concentrate. Magnus takes a deep breath and then cries out as a large hand carefully closes around his shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw that you were entering this alley and decided to make sure everything was OK. What are you doing here? Your house is the other way.”

“I’m lost,” Magnus says the first thing that pops into his mind and looks at himself. What kind of intelligence does a person have if he turns into the alley to find his own home? It’s to be hoped Alec will appreciate the impenetrable stupidity of his new acquaintance and leave.

“I’m sure we’ve all done that sometimes. Especially when you fall into thoughts. May I walk you home? We can keep quiet all the way if you don’t want to talk.”

Magnus nods and lets Alec lead him out of the alley. The walk around the city takes a long time, but Magnus enjoys looking at bright shop windows and colorful signs, giant screens on imposing buildings, and an endless stream of cars. And people. They are so different. It was as if Magnus had never seen them before. Crowds of women and men, children and adults, office clerks and hipsters, of various appearances and wealth. Magnus doesn’t even notice at what moment Alec puts his arm around the waist and pulls him closer to protect from the New Yorkers that are always in a hurry. The realization of this fact comes to him along with the subtle tremor of another’s body. Magnus stops right in the middle of the street and stares at Alec, who is dressed only in a thin silver shirt on this chilly evening.

“You’re completely cold,” Magnus comes to a brilliant conclusion and quickly grabs Alec’s hand, dragging him to the coffee-stall.

“I’m glad you’re taking care of me,” Alec tries again, and in all honesty, he’s not sure he won’t try again and again.

“I just feel responsible,” Magnus justifies himself and immediately grows stern. “What were you thinking about when you chose it?”

“That this is my favorite lucky shirt, and I am absolutely irresistible in it,” Alec says honestly and takes his paper cup of coffee to the accompaniment of a heavy sigh. He almost spills it when accidentally bumps into an elderly man with a dog. A subtle plan takes form in his head in a second, and Alec quickly leans into the old gentleman’s ear, asking for help.

“Your coffee,” the salesman says, giving the order.

Magnus smiles at him and takes the cup, which warms his fingers. Alec winks and beckons archly to him, forcing Magnus to take a step without looking at his feet. A small fluffy obstacle suddenly appears, and Magnus stumbles over a small dog that yaps indignantly at the inattentive person. Alec manages to catch a completely confused Magnus and flinches as the hot coffee burns the chest.

“Damn. I’m so sorry, Alexander. Does it hurt? Of course, it does. I’m so clumsy. You need to change your clothes immediately. And your dog, mister? I didn’t see it. Didn’t I hurt him?” Magnus starts to gabble excitedly, looking from one to the other.

“I’m the one who should apologize. I distracted and didn’t keep proper watch over Max. But he’s OK. I think your boyfriend needs you to take care of him.

The man winks mischievously and leaves, telling his dog something, while Magnus looks at Alec suspiciously.

“You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

“I would never sacrifice my favorite shirt,” Alec assures him, pointing at a dirty stain spreading on the fabric.

Magnus forces Alec to drink a hot coffee to avoid a cold, and then they walk briskly to the familiar apartment, where Alec looks in surprise at completely intact walls and floor and furniture without a scratch.

“You have to give me the phone numbers of the workers who renovated. I would never have thought that you can manage to fix everything in such a short time and did it with such high quality.”

“You need to change,” Magnus reminds him, and Alec pulls off his long-suffering shirt in one swift movement. “Oh.”

And then it’s time to panic because Alec is too close.

“Would you take me to the bathroom?” He asks gently, handing the shirt over to Magnus. “I’d tell you in what mode you need to wash it.”

“Yes, of course.”

Magnus, with an effort of will, turns away from the magnificent picture in front of his eyes and almost runs through the apartment, trying to calm his rushing heart.

“Here,” he exhales, averting his eyes in shame.

Just one snap of the fingers and numerous bottles and vials would disappear. But it’s impossible, so his little weakness is exposed. The High Warlock’s guilty pleasure sparkles with dozens of shades of handmade shampoos, gels, and soaps.

“Did you do it by yourself?” Alec whistles in admiration. “It’s so cool. Can I use them? And which of them is what?”

“The shampoos are on the top shelf on the right, balms and hair masks are on the left. The shower gels monopolize the middle shelf. The lower shelf. There is a little bit of everything.”

Magnus lists all his products for care, but Alec is no longer interested. He cautiously places his palms on the cheeks, crimson with shame, and makes their owner raise his head.

“I don’t know what idiot told you to be shy with it. Your skills are fascinating. If it were up to me, I would live in this room. Your bath looks damn comfortable and capacious.”

This was so predictable. A quick glance at the tub, which is more like a small pool in size, and again at half-naked Alec, who can’t help smiling.

“I’ll get you a T-shirt and a towel,” Magnus patters and quickly retreats.

A light scent of wildflowers fills the space, Alec takes a deep breath, relaxes, and lets the magic of this place to surround him. But time runs away with the water, and he has to get out. For the last time, Alec enjoys the comfort of this place, wrapped in a huge warm towel from head to toe. Alec sees a plain black T-shirt apparently belongs to the owner of the apartment. It almost fits him, and Alec realizes that he will never return it.

Magnus is waiting for him in the living room, thoughtfully scratching Meow behind the ear.

“If you ever decide to stop practicing fortune-telling and Tarot, open your shop with all these delicious-smelling things. You have a talent, Magnus. You’ll definitely get rich. Anyway, you already have one client.”

“I’m afraid they’ll lose their exclusivity,” Magnus smiles, and then his smile fades. “I put your shirt in the washer, it will finish the program in thirty minutes. So I would like to offer you my sweater so that you won’t get cold while you’re getting home.”

Alec has never been stupid, so he knows that he won’t be able to stay here longer, but he has another little trick.

“You know you still owe me for my chest’s burn.”

“I won’t go on a date with you anymore, Alexander.”

“But you can help me with my work. This will be a business meeting. I need a person who knows history well. I have a very demanding client and an absolutely mind-blowing event. The theme is related to the age of rococo, and I am afraid to be misled. Do you OK with that?”

“Fine, Alexander. I’ll give you back your shirt and help you organize it. But that’s all.”

“Cool. So I’ll pick you up at eleven on Monday. Give me your boring sweater. And a phone number. Just in case you decide to run away.”

“But ...”

“There’s no buts, Magnus. We meet for work. You can’t say no to me.”

Outside, Alec takes a deep breath of fresh air and smiles happily at his thoughts. On Monday, he will have a second date with Magnus.


	3. The third shirt

A pungent, irritating odor floats up to the nostrils, and Alec snorts, trying to finish the bath as soon as possible. With regret, he remembers the delicate, discreet aromas of shampoos made by Magnus’ hands. This guy occupied Alec’s thoughts. It’s no laughing matter, because of his dark eyes, Alec, for the first time, turned down the monthly Sunday party — he wanted to get better prepared for the upcoming date. A picky glance passes over the straight rows of hangers with various shirts. But today is a very special day, so Alec, without hesitation, pulls out a dark blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves and smiles, examining himself in the mirror. Magnus doesn’t stand a chance.

“Wow, someone is so determined. Who is the victim?”

“Curiosity killed a cat, Izzy. I heard Simon asked you to move in. Will you leave me on my own?”

“Changing the subject, Alec. Did this someone hook you hard? What is he like?”

“Absolutely magical. And that doesn’t change the fact that you move in with Simon.”

“It’s a long process. We need such a huge desk so that all our monitors can fit, and there are still so many little things to think about. So you should warn me if you want to bring him here.”

“I think by the time he agrees, you’ll already be renovating Simon’s bachelor pad.”

Alec jokes and then notices in the mirror Isabelle’s mouth is half-open.

“What’s wrong, Izzy?”

“You haven’t brought anyone here, Alec. Never. But things are different now, right? Is he the one?”

“It’s too early to tell. We had only one date and two meetings. But he’s really amazing. I’ve never met anyone like him. I’m still not sure if he feels what I feel. He is a very private person, very closed, but at the same time, he’s so mysterious and magnetic.”

“Then go and win his heart, Alec.”

It’s easy to say, but not to do. Alec stands on the doorstep and realizes that he came much earlier.

“Tell me we agreed to meet at ten,” he pleads, seeing sleepy Magnus with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Magnus shakes his head, and Alec looks at him with despair in the eyes and asks.

“At eleven?”

Magnus nods vigorously, confirming Alec’s worst fears. How could he screw up like that?

“Come in.”

Magnus moves away from the door, inviting Alec inside, and then holes up in the bathroom. He needs to prepare for this meeting.

When he returns to the living room, dressed in simple trousers and a boring T-shirt, placing his hands behind his back, Alec immediately realizes that something has happened. And if everything went as he expected, Magnus won’t get rid of him for a long time.

“Magnus, what is it? I know I came too early. I don’t know why I mixed up with the time.”

“I guess you mixed up the washing modes, too, because I spoiled your lucky shirt,” Magnus says this in a voice full of sadness as if he’s talking about some tragic event.

“May I see its corpse?”

Magnus nods and shows the silvery piece of cloth he had been hiding behind his back. Alec examines the shirt that has shrunk in the wash with a straight face.

“Well,” he says pointedly, putting his shrunk shirt to the body. “I’m afraid I won’t even be able to set it into the “tight as a drum” category. Are you sure it was me who mixed up the modes?”

“Don’t try to put all the blame on me, Alexander. I clearly remember that you said to wash on cotton mode.”

“Anyway, how could you not notice that it’s made of silk?”

“I noticed but thought you knew better. I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It was custom-made,” Alec says and then adds. “And since we are both to blame, I’m offering you to share the responsibility equally. But first, we need to fix something. I’m early, so I have to buy you breakfast. I saw a cozy bakery nearby. We can go there before work. And also, we might discuss what to do with your responsibility for my lucky shirt.”

“Somehow, I think you’d be a very successful financier. I’ve just ruined two of your shirts. But I’m sure I should have a sale of all my body organs to pay you back.”

“I assure you that the entire you are worth much more than that. Come on?”

Magnus nods and follows Alec, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. Still, the distance of half a meter quickly reduces to thirty centimeters when they go outside, and then the scurrying Brooklynites make them snuggle up. Small tables in the bakery conspiracy against Magnus, who feels the warmth of Alec’s skin next to the body. And this sudden intimacy is confused, messes with his head, and pulls the rug out from under him, so his clumsiness is rapidly approaching catastrophic proportions.

“What an interesting bracelet,” Alec says, pointing at the intricately intertwined filaments of metal that show off the gold shade of the skin. “Can I take a closer look?”

And Magnus pales, realizing he forgot to take an ancient artifact from his left wrist because of Alec’s visit. Well, it’s not exactly an artifact, rather, a prehistoric form of life, feeding exclusively on demonic energy. An ancient magic devourer works well with the spontaneous bursts of power that have become constant companions of sleep since he regained the magic. Long fingers gently touch the dark surface, and Alec cries out in surprise.

“Why is it so cold? Like ice.”

“Because he gorged during the night, and now he’s asleep,” Magnus wants to answer, but instead, he shrugs sincerely.

“It looks good on you,” Alec says quietly, continuing to stroke the ornate tangle of icy black threads.

“You too,” the words flies out against Magnus’s will, and Alec smiles.

“This is a little different. It isn’t ruined my look but complements the suit. You look like you were born for jewelry. Look, it’s getting warmer. A little caress is needed to melt the ice.”

“If you only knew,” Magnus says, forgetting himself, but then stops, noticing a curious look.

“If I only knew what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Magnus waves that off, withdraws his hand, and tries to pull the magic parasite from his wrist, but big warm palms don’t let him do it.

“Don’t take it off, please.”

And Magnus meekly abandons all efforts, forbidding himself to think about the reasons for such sudden obedience.

“Thank you,” Alec says with feeling, forbidding himself to think about graceful fingers with several rings or beautiful bracelets that will twine round the arms. Not now.

They leave the bakery, and Magnus squints at the bright spring sun as Alec flagging a taxi down. The good-natured driver is happy to tell them both what he thinks about the mayor and his actions, and Alec immediately gets drowned in the conversation, turning it into a lively discussion. They even manage to interest Magnus, who, with a couple of phrases, paralyzes two mortals for a few seconds, after which, having united, they begin to prove to Magnus the fundamental inconsistency of his opinion. But centuries of experience don’t just happen. A couple more phrases, an instructive example from history, and silence reigns in the taxi, which no one dares to break until the final stop.

“Well, well, look at you,” the driver admires. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a trip like this. I never thought anyone could beat me in the argument. Thanks, guys. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” Alec says, getting out of the car.

And then he gazes at Magnus, who looks at the building.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re just incredibly amazing?”

“I just have some knowledge of the history,” Magnus shrugs. “Can you show us what we have to deal with?”

“With pleasure.”

Alec walks with him into the vast hall that has already been decorated at his behest, and Magnus immediately frowns, doesn’t say anything. First, it’s necessary to assess the scale of the disaster. They walk silently along the walls, and Alec begins to nerve cause Magnus looks very dissatisfied.

“So, what do you think?” finally, Alec breaks down and freezes, waiting for the verdict.

“I won’t say that it’s too bad. But you don’t know anything about the Rococo age, do you?”

“No, um, yes. But it seemed to me that I had done the hall with the Rococo design.”

“Yeah, you did it, with the Baroque chairs. Take a closer look. They are massive, heavy, and the upholstery is very contrasting. There is no sign of lightness or grace in them. And now look at those sofas that movers are unloading. Delicate colors, airiness of images, pastel shades. A lot of decorative items, but this is inherent to this style. Now, look up.”

Magnus points to the numerous chandeliers and lamps adorned the ceiling.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“They are too simple. Where is the explosive luxury? They smell an English restraint, not French sophistication. You see, although the aristocrats abandoned the pomp of the Baroque after the death of Louis XIV, this does not mean they immediately became ascetics.”

“Damn.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. The one hanging in the center is pretty good. If you add lights to the wall and replace the side ones with something more acceptable, then no one will notice. The whole question is, who is your client. I mean, how much do they know about the Rococo age?”

“I don’t know, but I always try to work as my clients are eminently qualified.”

Alec looks so disappointed that Magnus has to make a huge effort not to wave his hand and transform this place.

“Listen to me, Alexander. You did a great job choosing this hall. If you didn’t get the right place, everything would have been much worse. The stucco ceiling is wonderful. The style of the walls is also easy to guess. We need to add more mirrors in the proper frames, hang tapestries, and a couple of paintings. Otherwise, the room will be looking half-empty. I think you will be able to exchange the chairs. They probably have other sets. Plus, soft lighting will work in your favor. The only thing that could be complicated is the dishes. You are unlikely to get something from that age unless, of course, your family keeps such values in their basement. And it’s quite difficult to find good imitations. Have you hired a chef yet?”

“Yes, a Frenchman. He knows the cuisine of that era pretty well. We spent two weeks together just on the menu. And he also warned me about the dishes. Can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

Alec nods and pulls out his smartphone, and Magnus is flooded with memories of old times. He smiles at the past and relives the exciting moments that he had in such halls. There was no technical progress, only fresh flowers, brush paintings, natural fabrics, and music. Lord God and all his angels! Music!

“I know what else you have to do,” Magnus grabs Alec’s hand to get attention, and Alec immediately puts the smartphone into the pocket. “You need a small orchestra. Live music. I think even a quartet is enough. But six or seven is better. If your guests want to feel the spirit of that time, then music will convey it best.”

Alec’s eyes light up, and he beckons his assistant, while Magnus comes closer to a small niche in which an artsy coach is hidden. The swarthy hand slides over the rose-tendre upholstery, and the bum immediately reminds of how uncomfortable it was to sit on these works of art. The twenty-first century officially wins the comfort competition.

“Vicki, find me an orchestra that will play live music of the eighteenth century.”

“Okay, Mr. Lightwood.”

Magnus bites his lip and takes another view of the place, trying to imagine how it will look like when Alec reorganizes it. How the big hall will be filled with men and women in carnival costumes, and the candles will tremble when one more couple, hiding from prying eyes, will confess their love to each other.

“Tell me it will be a masquerade ball,” Magnus says, and Alec smiles.

“It will be a masquerade ball. Let’s sit down; I want to show you some dishes.”

Alec pulls him onto the couch, and Magnus flinches when he gets too close.

“Look,” Alec sees how his consultant is embarrassed, but it’s impossible to resist the strong appetence. He touches Magnus’s shoulder with the chin while his hand rests on the back of the couch, and a little movement is enough to get Magnus trapped in a tight hug.

Alec wants to live every precious moment, so he is in no hurry, enjoying what he has: the sparkle of excitement in the eyes when thin fingers scroll through the photos on the smartphone, a light scent from golden skin, and the warmth of the body.

“This one might work,” Magnus suggests hesitantly, turning his head.

These sofas are not designed for a comfortable pastime, not at all. They are made for kissing. And Alec surprises him again. His large hand runs through the hair, returning the calm and composure.

“It’s okay, Magnus. I won’t do anything if you don’t want to,” the whisper burns the already dry lips, but Magnus finally brings to life when the ancient parasite bites him stinging. And at the moment, judging by its size, it’s on the verge of death from oversaturation.

Magnus looks at the threads, which have become twice as thick, and begins to beat himself up about the lack of restraint. The stupid body reacts to the man next to him too hard.

A deep breath and Magnus tries to focus on the set he likes. A crazy idea slips into his head, and nerves begin to ring with tension.

“I’ll get you the dishes,” Magnus gets to his feet. “After the party, you’ll send it to me, and I myself will return it to its owner. Do you agree?”

“You won’t do anything illegal, will you?”

“No. I need the address of this bureau.”

“I’ll send you a text message.”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

***

The shop owner tries one last time to convince the strange customer that this set of dishes does not fit at all, but the stubborn Magnus Bane, as he introduced himself, waves it off. All his experience has taught him that madmen are more trouble than they worth, so the owner allows Magnus to lock himself one-on-one with numerous boxes and kilometers of wrapping paper. Like a child who has got a Christmas present, Magnus makes one move with his hands, and the simple glass in front of him begins to change its shape, becoming thinner and more elegant. Rich patterns cover its surface, and after a few seconds, an unremarkable product from the mass market turns into the creation of the Venetian masters. A heavy sigh. It will be harder than he thought. But the power surging in his body leaves no time for reflection. Three hours later, Magnus, sweaty and tired, but extremely pleased with himself, is sitting surrounded by numerous plates, glasses, decanters, and cutlery, each of which now costs a fortune, and together they will take a number on the Forbes list. One last wave of the hand and all this splendor is wrapped in paper and neatly stacked in boxes while Magnus freshens up.

“Well, well, look at you, Mr. Bane. Just three hours, and all the dishes are packed. Even the boxes were boarded up and sealed. My guys will deliver them to the place. Have a nice evening,” the owner nods to Magnus, not understanding why this shy man had to refuse the help.

***

Alec stares in surprise at many boxes that muscular guys in overalls are bringing into the large hall.

“That was quick,” he says to Magnus, eyeing the last drawer curiously. “Can I open it?”

“Of course,” Magnus smiles, looking forward to the reaction, but then frowns. “Do you remember that after your party, you will put everything in the boxes and give it back to me?”

“Don’t worry.”

Alec squats, and people begin to gather around him. He opens the drawer easily and then takes out a porcelain platter with a fantastic painting.

“Oh, my God,” Alec can’t keep his delight. “Where did you find them, Magnus? They are wonderful!”

This kind of transformation always takes a lot of effort, and Magnus has spent quite a lot of his magic reserve, but now, watching Alec and his assistants’ happy face, a strange sensation is binding his heart. This light joy seems to fill the body with energy, and Magnus looks at the bracelet, which again begins to grow right before his eyes. His powers try to go out of control, so Magnus backs away, forcing his breath to come even, and the only hope for him is to disappear unnoticed.

“Magnus.”

Two steps and Alec is next to him. To restrain the magic becomes more and more difficult. It waves through the body, enveloping the fingertips in a blue haze.

“Thank you for helping.”

Alec is very close, and Magnus freezes, afraid of betraying himself. A sincere smile leaves no one cold. A hot hand at the waist, it’s impossible to resist it. So Magnus takes a small step forward. And only when soft lips give an innocent kiss to his cheek, he comes to his senses. The swarthy palm is digging into Alec’s chest in an attempt to push him away, but the magic fueled by different emotions gushes over the edge and is absorbed by the bloated bracelet. A few sprouts quickly lengthen and braid the dark blue shirt’s buttons, tightly connecting them with the ancient creature. It’s lucky Alec doesn’t notice what’s going on. His fingers reach to the palm touching his chest, but Magnus pulls his hand back abruptly, ripping off three buttons at once that roll merrily across the stone floor.

“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus says, almost crying, and Alec is really frightened. He pulls Magnus close and strokes his hair gently.

“It’s just a shirt, Magnus. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Do you hear me? I’m not going to sell your organs for a rag,” Alec jokes, and the tense muscles begin to relax.

Magnus listens to his body and understands that the energy raging inside his veins has calmed down as if Alec’s words are an unknown spell.

“I’ll take you home,” Alec says, hugging Magnus tightly. “Vicki, cover for me”.


	4. The fourth shirt

Magnus is used to wake up with the sound of his alarm, annoying and irritating, but this morning is different. An invigorating coffee aroma tickles the nostrils, and Magnus stretches himself in bed, waiting for a delicious breakfast.

“You know,” a mocking voice is heard very close. “Now you don’t owe me, but my sister, who had to leave her beloved Simon and come here with a change of clothes.”

Alec stands with a small tray by the window, and Magnus groans softly, realizing in what situation he put in.

“You scared me yesterday, Magnus. Did you have a bad day, so you felt a little weird about it?”

 _“I have uncontrollable flashes of magic because of your presence in my life,”_ as always, unhelpful thoughts.

“No, I’m always strange.”

“My sister is a computer genius. I’m used to it. And she invites us to the movies. Izzy promised to blow our minds, so you should definitely go. Otherwise, I’ll be the only one who loses the mind, and this is not fair. At the very least, I need your support.”

“We agreed that I would help you, Alexander, and then we would stop our meetings.”

“That was before you tore my shirt off in front of the employees and pressed your head to my chest, and then dragged me to your apartment and left me to sleep on the couch. By the way, it is terribly uncomfortable. Even with your magic set, your sins are too great. So have breakfast and rest. I have to go to work, and tomorrow night I’ll pick you up, and we go to the movies for a classic double date.”

“Yesterday, you said that your shirt is just a rag.”

“Yesterday I tried to look like a gentleman to you. But you didn’t say a word in the taxi, and then you even wanted to kick me out of your house into the street in the middle of the night.”

“It was at seven in the evening!”

“But the sun was setting. It was dark and scary outside,” Alec retorts and then adds. “Drink your coffee while it’s hot.”

“Will I owe for it too?”

“This is a goodwill gesture. You’re so cute when you sleep. I wasn’t watching you. I understood it just when I came to wake you up.”

Alec sits down on the bed and pushes the tray right up to Magnus.

“Thank you,” he grumbles and then flinches as long fingers gently run through his hair, smoothing a couple strands.

“Don’t miss me,” Alec winks at him and leans lower, looking into dark brown eyes. A chaste kiss blooms on Magnus’s cheek with sparkling flowers, and he covers it with the hand.

The door closes, and Magnus smiles broadly after another sip. It had been so long since anyone had made coffee for him or made stupid excuses to stay with.

“He’s a Shadowhunter,” Magnus reminds himself, “and you’re not good with your magic. Moreover, he’s mortal, and you’re a deceiver and a liar.”

And now the coffee doesn’t taste so delicious, and the sunlight becomes dimmer. A snap of the fingers and the washed cup takes its place. And how did he manage without magic before? But to tame the wayward energy again, he will have to work hard. Magnus reluctantly gets out of bed, dresses, and walks to the nearest sporting goods store, where he picks out the suitable yoga mat. And upon returning home, she immediately tests her new acquisition, noting with pleasure how the body responds to asanas and breathing exercises. He’s finishing with the workout when the smartphone comes to life, and a familiar name appears on the screen.

“What happened, Alexander?” Magnus asks, panting.

“Why are you breathing so strange? Is something wrong?” Alec reacts with new questions, and Magnus responds with his complete honesty.

“No, I was doing yoga, and it seemed overdid it. This happens after a long break.

“Yoga?” Alec asks, and his tone of voice changes subtly. “How long have you been practicing?”

“Yes,” Magnus smiles, remembering the first time he started taking lessons.

“You’re wearing comfortable clothes, aren’t you?”

“The usual clothing for yoga: capri pants and a tank top.”

“Oh, Magnus, you know how to intrigue. But I want a more detailed story. I’m on my lunch hour, so talk to me. What color are they? Are they comfortable enough?”

“Do you want to try it too?”

Magnus waits for an answer, but Alec is suspiciously silent.

“Alec,” Magnus calls louder and exhales when he hears a heavy sigh.

“You are the most notorious sadist, Magnus Bane. And I will make you pay for you torturing my imagination. Anyway, my answer is yes. I want you to teach me yoga.”

“But that’s not what I meant,” Magnus tries to save himself, but Alec isn’t easy to get rid of.

“We can start this weekend. I’m even willing to pay you for the lessons. I don’t want to go to an unverified coach. There is always a chance he will not be able to explain all the advantages of a good stretch and demonstrate the exercises correctly, but I trust you.”

“Why did you call?” Magnus changes the subject, hoping Alec will forget what he wants, especially if one talkative warlock doesn’t remind him.

“To see how you are doing. Well, as I heard, you are all right. I also wanted to thank you. Manu, the chef I told you about, saw your set and was completely delighted. He said it was perfect, exactly what we need. Plus, Vicki found a small orchestra that agreed to help us. And tomorrow I’ll get new chairs. I think we will be in time by next Friday. It seems you bring me good luck, Magnus.”

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” Magnus says quietly and sighs sadly: he has to leave before things go too far.

“Not yet,” Alec answers him just as quietly. “But I hope it will depend on time and my perseverance. Anyway, I am ready to do my best. See you tomorrow, Magnus.”

Magnus hears a dial tone and sits down on the mat.

“What should I do?” He asks the cats, and they give him two completely different answers.

Meow glances at the empty bowl, hinting at lunch, and Church settles in an armchair showing with all his appearance how important and useful the afternoon nap is.

“To eat and to sleep,” Magnus voices their thoughts. “And what did I expect from two cats? On the other hand, a snack wouldn’t be amiss, either.”

But the next time he thinks about food is in the late afternoon when insistent cats finally draw attention to their needs. Magnus takes his eyes off the Book of the White and writes down the last notes. To go to the store is too hard for him after practicing spells of varying complexity. They took much energy, so a snap of the fingers solves the problem of a late dinner. But the apartment has to be cleaned by hand because Magnus doesn’t want to rely only on magic in the future.

As a result, he ends up around 2:00 a.m., and Church’s burning gaze makes it clear what his smart cat thinks about such outrageous disregard of sleeping. Hello, Rococo style, which seems was seared into his brain while Magnus was working on the dish set.

“I hate my fucking magic!”

Magnus stares resignedly at the canopy above his bed and catches a thought of the upcoming Alec’s visit. A lot of work has to be done, and it frightens. So Magnus trudges into the kitchen, where his cats listen to new streams of invective. A contemptuous look from Church speaks more clearly than any words, but Meow enjoys the changed interior and the decorative tureen instead of a bowl.

Magnus walks out onto the balcony, eyes closed and breathless.

“Meow, tell me that I didn’t transform the whole district, otherwise Alexander gets suspicious.”

Meow purrs his reassurance, and Magnus opens his eyes.

“Have a nice day, too, good old Brooklyn.”

The sun puffs up the embers of the red roofs, and Magnus pulls up his shirt-sleeves, giving the games of consciousness their due. Blue streams of magic sweep through the room, swirling around the furniture, break into drops, rain down from the ceiling, washing away all the signs of the eighteenth century. The process carries Magnus away, and he doesn’t notice how the hands of the now ordinary round clock are approaching the very mark. It’s time to go for groceries, but laziness wins another round. Therefore, the cheapest burger disappears from the nearest McDonald’s, and in return, Magnus leaves a double payment.

“This is for the last time,” he promises Meow, chewing the tasteless creation of the scary clown’s followers. And Meow agrees with his friend: disgusting burgers have no place in their kitchen. Yesterday’s pasta is another matter.

The shower is relaxing, and by seven o’clock Magnus is ready for a double date and an introduction to Isabelle. “You’ll just have to draw a line,” Magnus convinces himself. “And stop all these meetings. I hope his sister is more sensible.”

When Magnus shows up, Alec sees his firm gaze. There is a half-meter between them again, and it clearly shows that Magnus has decided to stay away from him. Alec leads Magnus past the box offices, gesturing to take some snacks, but in vain. A vast crowd of spectators comes out of the hall, animatedly discussing some kind of cartoon, and Magnus freezes, watching the children and their parents’ smiling faces. A violent hunger of the soul squeezes the heart: he will never have such a weekend. A warm palm squeezes his fingers - Alec tries to pull Magnus to him, and Magnus already takes a small step but stops, overwhelmed with his own cruelty. Only the most unprincipled person can take away a chance for a normal life from another man. Magnus shakes his head and steps back, cutting himself off from any feelings, and Alec feels all the pain that he passes through his heart.

“Guys,” Simon waves at them, and Izzy jumps up and down with impatience.

Alec silently points to his sister’s phone, and she raises her eyebrows in bewilderment and then frowns, reading the short message: “Not today.”

“You don’t want to continue, do you?” Alec knows what he’s asking.

“I warned you,” the lifeless voice crumbles into dry leaves under the feet.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can watch a movie with you, but then we go our separate ways, Alexander. I am leaving in a week.”

“Where?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Trust me. It’s better this way.”

“For whom?”

“For me,” Magnus says, but the despair in his eyes hides other words.

“It’s a lie,” Alec objects to him. “And you know it, but I won’t hold you. Just remember, one day, it may be too late.”

Alec turns and walks away, trying to hold his head up high: there’s no point in fighting for a person who doesn’t want to. But when, after a couple of minutes, Magnus runs past him at full speed along the hall, Alec, with no hesitation, immediately runs after him.

“What’s wrong, Magnus?” Alec catches him on the side of the road and drags him onto the sidewalk.

“I forgot to close the balcony door. Meow got out. He can fall... I’m so careless. How could I forget? Stupid, useless idiot. I can’t even take care of the cat.”

There is so much despair in the dark eyes that Alec takes Magnus’s hand and pulls him along.

“Everything will be fine with him. Now we’ll go to your place and get your cat back. The main thing is not to be nervous and calm down.”

Alec fastens the belt for Magnus and, noticing the angry look, says.

“If you are on edge, he won’t come to you. You need to ease your mind for him. Just breathe with me as we drive.”

All the way, Alec stares at Magnus, who is sitting unnaturally straight, and his hands are clasped together. As Alec is driving to the house, he sees a small ball of fur balancing on the thin railing of the next balcony, and a groan comes out from Magnus.

“Let’s go,” Alec commands, gripping Magnus’s palm tightly in his own.

In a few seconds, they run up several flights of stairs and burst into the apartment. The narrow crack leading to the balcony silently accuses Magnus of carelessness, and he quietly opens the door so as not to frighten his pet.

“Meow,” the voice trembles and does not obey, and Meow does not even turn to his master’s call.

“I’m here with you. Calm down.”

Alec stands behind. His strong arms embrace, comforting Magnus, who relaxes and tries again.

“Meow, come to me. Daddy loves you,” Magnus says more confidently, and the wayward cat turns his curious face, wondering what he will get for his obedience.

“I’ll buy you some pate. No more McDonald’s burgers, I promise. Daddy will never bring such food to our home. I give you my word of honor.”

Meow turns around, interested in the generous business proposal, and takes a few steps.

“You’re doing well, go on,” Alec whispers and lays his chin on Magnus’s shoulder.

“Daddy won’t be away for so long anymore,” Magnus continues, but Meow doesn’t like that at all. He sits down on the narrow railing and looks expectantly at the two men standing on the balcony.

“Please, Meow, come to me,” Magnus begs, but it’s no use.

“Your daddy’s not going anywhere, Meow,” Alec joins the conversation, and Meow tilts his head to the side, studying Magnus with his yellow eyes.

“We’re not going anywhere, Meow, I promise,” Magnus confirms. “We will stay here. Just come to me, please.”

The cat hesitates for three whole seconds, then rises and walks to the very edge of the neighbor’s balcony with a swagger. Magnus holds out his trembling hands, but he can’t reach the cat.

“Step away, Magnus.” Alec pulls him aside, and Magnus clutches the shirt.

“Alexander, you won’t climb over the balcony. It’s dangerous. I’ll do it myself.”

Magnus exhales and prepares to use his magic, but Alec leaps onto the railing in an instant.

“Don’t worry, I never fall,” He smiles and calmly takes a few steps along the narrow parapet, then jumps to the tiny ledge and holds out his hand. Still, Meow is in no hurry with the decision and sniffs suspiciously at the unfamiliar smell.

“Meow, Alexander’s going to carry you. Daddy trusts him. He’s our friend,” Magnus begs, and the next moment Meow takes a few steps. Alec hugs a small fluffy ball and comes back, and then with a smile, looks at Magnus, who exhales in relief and takes his treasure.

“Looks like he’s waiting for the promised pate,” Alec raises his eyebrow, and Magnus nods, handing the purring creature into the hands that saved him.

He goes into the kitchen and snitches pate from the nearest store and then hears a surprised cry.

“Don’t tell me you’re laying cat’s food in the eighteenth-century tureen. It’s too much, don’t you think so? Or was it extra for that set, and you didn’t find a better use for it?”

“This is a fake,” Magnus is telling the truth, in any case, his words aren’t a lie, but the offending face of Meow, who was slipped a fake instead of the original, makes Alec giggle.

“Were you inspired by the theme for my party?” Alec jokes kindly, and Magnus, who has already laid out the pate, nods, remembering this morning.

“You have no idea how much,” he says, and then throws his head back and laughs so catchy that Alec can’t help but join. Gaiety stops abruptly when Alec sees a fluffy tail glimpsing near the balcony door. So the hero immediately rushes to the aid of another cat.

“Alexander, no!” Magnus yells, realizing what this crazy madman is going to do, but it’s too late.

Alec picks up the furry child of Hell and gently presses it to the chest, giving Magnus a satisfied smile. And Church immediately takes revenge for such unceremonious behavior. With great pleasure, sharp claws tear the shirt’s thin fabric, leaving deep scratches on the skin, and the nasty meow makes Magnus wince, even though he is accustomed to everything.

“Shit,” Alec grimaces in pain while Church lands with dignity on the carpet.

“My God,” Magnus runs to Alec.

Agile hands unbutton the shirt, and the tips of trembling fingers gently touch the skin near the scratches, where the first drops of blood have already appeared.

“I’m so sorry,” Magnus whispers, feeling guilty. He focuses on wounds and doesn’t notice how Alec’s arms wrap around him.

“Are you really staying here? Won’t you go anywhere?”

“I never cheat on my cats, Alexander,” Magnus takes offense. “Wait here, I’ll get an antiseptic and treat your scratches.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?” Magnus doesn’t understand, but the answer burns with a breath that settles in a slight mint taste on the lips. Alec is careful and unhurried. He is ready for rejection and even for a good blow, but not for barely a groan, which allows his tongue to slip inward, not to the fingers that get tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, not to the lithe body that bends into his hands. All the thoughts fade because Magnus doesn’t just allow himself to be kissed. His tongue slides over the plump lips; it runs against the upper teeth, gently touches the wet tip of Alec’s tongue, and the vibration of a low moan dissolves the last barriers. Magnus’s hands reach down to the shoulders, pulling the shirt down to the floor as his thighs press impatiently against the groin.

“Wait, Magnus. Take your time. I don’t want you to regret it later.”

“I won’t regret it.”

“I won’t be your one-night stand, Magnus. I need all of you.”

And Magnus finally comes back to reality. He steps away, puts his hands around his shoulders, and looks at Alec plaintively.

“I’m not the one who you need to, Alec.”

“Perhaps,” Alec agrees. “But how will you know if you don’t try?”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“It’s more complicated, but you can tell me. I’ll keep your secret, I promise.”

“Even if I’m a murderer?”

“Are you a murderer?” Alec’s voice is growing fainter.

“Yes.”

Magnus remembers his stepfather and all those people who suffered because of him.

“Did you want to kill them?”

“No,” Magnus says so softly that Alec has to read his lips. “But it won’t change the past. I took their lives. It doesn’t matter anymore, did I want this or not.”

“It’s always important, Magnus,” Alec disagrees and comes closer. “You have every right to be happy, no matter what your demons whisper to you. I think we all are not innocent, but some of us have more luck, and some have less. It is easy to be righteous when you live behind a high fence and you are under guard, when you are full and have a roof over your head. I’ll give you a week. Think about us. You will not need to tell me what you don’t want to. It will be enough for me if today’s Magnus agrees to try. Even if he decides never to think about his past again, I will accept it. I am a person for whom the present is important, the present, and maybe a bit of the future.”

Magnus nods, watching as Alec picks up his shirt from the floor.

“Do you know, you are the first and only man in my life who leaves me half naked with great regularity? Can I borrow another T-shirt and a sweater that doesn’t match my pants?”

Magnus turns slowly, leaves the living room, and returns a few minutes later, silently holding out his clothes. He knows that if Alec walks out that door, he won’t have the courage anymore.

“I don’t need a week, Alexander,” Magnus comes closer, and Alec freezes in a ridiculous pose with his hands up. “I want this.”


	5. The fifth shirt

“If I were a good guy, I’d tell you should think about it.”

“But you’re not this type,” Magnus smiles, coming up close.

“No, I’m not. I can’t leave. All I can promise you is that I’ll do everything for you won’t regret it.”

Alec throws aside his useless T-shirt and lowers his arms, placing them around Magnus’s waist. But Magnus takes a step back.

“We need to dress the scratches,” he says and goes into the bedroom, not noticing that Alec is following him like a shadow. And only after taking the first-aid kit, Magnus discovers his silent pursuer.

“I miss you,” Alec tells him.

“Say it after I’m finished.”

Magnus motions Alec to sit on the bed, then puts down a small pouf between his legs, picks up cotton pads and a bottle of antiseptic.

“I love your cats,” Alec smiles as Magnus gently runs the pad over the scratch.

“Even Church?” Magnus wonders, touching the edges of the torn skin.

“Especially him. If it were not for this demon in a cat form, I wouldn’t sit shirtless on your bed, and you wouldn’t be my boyfriend.”

“Yes, you know how to get your way.” Magnus dabs the chest with his fingertips one last time, examining the skin carefully, and then notices the same studying gaze that passes over his face, lingering on his lips for a long time.

“Usually, the cat rescuers have some reward,” a hoarse whisper sounds so close that a soft cotton pad falls out of Magnus’s hand and flies to the floor. But it’s impossible to pick it up when long fingers hold the chin. Alec feels the desire, but the fear is even sharper. A glance straight in the eye — Magnus is afraid. He tries not to show it, but Alec is hard to deceive. He can only guess what the reason is, so he stops. Alec’s other hand gently strokes the smooth cheek, easing the tension. But for Magnus, the situation is catastrophic. He tries to control the magic, which is eager to heal the scratches. The itching in the palms is getting stronger, and the exposure is very close when the crash in the living room saves at the last second.

Alec rises from the bed, frowns, and looks at Magnus, who, seeing the wordless question in the hazel eyes, blames his cats without hesitation.

“I’ll go check on it,” Magnus smiles but stops when Alec grabs his arm.

“Stay behind, Magnus,” he instructs before leaving the bedroom and then stares in surprise at two innocent cat faces amidst the shambles. “Are you sure you don’t have another pet? Well, there, say, a tiger, a lion, or an elephant. Because if all this mess is a work of these two, then I’m lucky o have survived after meeting your cats.”

“I’ll clean it up, Alexander.”

“Are you crazy? You’ve got hours of work here. I suggest we order food and combine our efforts.”

“ _Yeah, and find dried frog carcasses, a couple of snake skins, spider legs, the remains of vampire’s hair, and everything else. And that list doesn’t even include the books on magic,_ ” Magnus thinks and then says:

“Don’t you have a job tomorrow?”

“And you?”

“Yes, I have a couple of clients, but I’m such a cleaning expert. There is nothing to worry about. And you will have to ask me what and where to lay. So it will be better if I do it myself.”

“Why don’t you tell the truth?”

“ _I’ll clean up this room with one wave of my hand, and you will throw up as soon as you get to know the contents of my closets. And I haven’t replenished my stocks for a long time. But in the old days ..._ ” even more useless thoughts.

“I don’t want you working the first day we started to date.”

“A tolerable excuse. But at least I have to offer you dinner. Now I’ll get dressed, and let’s go.”

Alec looks around and grins, picking up his shirt.

“This is the fourth, Magnus. The rule of three didn’t work. Perhaps I should replenish my shirts if you want to keep it up.”

“I promise I won’t do it again. You can take my T-shirt and sweater.”

“I’d better take their owner.”

***

Clary runs her fingers over the door and feels nausea rises acid. For the past few days, strange dreams fill her mind, and there is always one main hero. A tall, attractive man. Magnus. The name turns into bitterness and salt on the tongue, and Clary exhales. Yesterday Jace told her about Alec’s new boyfriend. He resented, describing all the oddities, but at the same time, carefully looked at her as if was trying to discern the slightest changes. And that very night, a mysterious name escaped from dreams and split reality. Clary cringes, remembering the pain in different colored eyes and the sharp corners of the words. “So that’s who you’re dreaming about. I hope you feel sorry for Alec and will not ruin his relationship.” And then Jace walked away, leaving behind emptiness and a sense of guilt.

“Clary!” A familiar voice calls out to her, and her heart sinks into her boots. “Were you looking for me? Why didn’t you call? Is something wrong with Izzy or Jace?”

“No.”

Clary runs down the stairs, and Alec shrugs in surprise but then walks into the apartment, scooping Meow up in his arms.

“Magnus! What did Clary want from you?”

“Clary?” Magnus frowns, pondering.

“I met her at your door. I thought she came to see you.”

“Where is she, Alexander?”

“She got away as soon as she saw me.”

“Stay here and don’t go anywhere,” Magnus’s voice changes, and Alec feels the powerful notes sounded in it make the list of erotic fantasies grows again. The door slams and Alec is left alone with two cats, one of which is madly in love with him, and the second one hates him with a burning passion. Alec goes out onto the balcony and notices Magnus squeezing Clary’s hands, explaining something to excitedly. A couple of minutes pass. Clary calms down, nods, and wipes away her tears with an open palm while Magnus gently strokes her hair.

“I won’t be jealous of him,” Alec says aloud. “We’ve only been dating for a week.”

But when thin arms wrap around the neck of his boyfriend, and he hugs a fragile girl, the voice of reason ceases.

“I’ll just ask him what’s going on,” Alec convinces himself and opens the door, bumping nose to nose with Magnus, who looks extremely concerned.

“Alexander, your friend is a complete jerk,” Magnus declares to him, but the meaning of the words remains a mystery because there is a puzzle right in front of him. No one in the world could move up from the street to the apartment in three seconds.

“I need to sit down, Magnus.”

Suddenly, the idea that all three were drugged that day doesn’t seem so silly anymore. Almost two minutes have just disappeared from his life.

“Magnus, what happened at the party? Was it a drug?”

But there is no time for Magnus to answer because Jace bursts into the apartment with Clary hanging on him.

“Stop it, Jace! Magnus has nothing to do with it.”

But Jace practically throws her away, runs to Magnus, and grabs him by the neck.

“Hooking up with my Clary? Goes behind Alec’s back? Scum!”

“Get your hands off him.”

Alec stands next to Jace and tries to end this meeting peacefully, but his friend is blinded by jealousy and doesn’t succumb to the urging.

“He wanted to cheat on you, Alec.”

“I said take your hands off him,” Alec raises his voice because he can see Magnus isn’t reacting at all. He is looking sadly at Clary, who is literally choking back her tears.

“Everything will be all right, Biscuit,” Magnus whispers, and his short phrase turns to the last straw.

Magnus falls on the floor, and Alec loses his temper.

“I told you not to touch him!”

But instead of answering, Jace sets upon, and only the remnants of common sense prevent Alec from hitting back. So he continues to duck, wanting to avoid the fight. But Jace has the other plan. His hands move deftly, grabbing Alec by the shirt’s collar, and then try to throw him over the hip. Alec dodges this attack but gets a glancing blow to the cheekbone. He instinctively touches his face, and this switches something in Magnus’s brain. An important tumbler that is always responsible for calmness and self-control.

A strong, targeted stream of bright scarlet magic blows away Jace, and he rips out the collar of the shirt but doesn’t open his hand. Burning energy presses him to the closet door while bright blue fetters hold Alec.

“Freeze!” Magnus’s voice echoes through the room, cooling hotheads as it is an icy wind.

Red sparks dance at the warlock’s fingertips, charging the space with electricity, and Alec’s list of fetishes fills up with new items.

“What are you?” Jace asks, and Magnus rubs the bridge of his nose, calming his nerves. Jace said only three words, but the heart immediately remembers what they would be followed.

“Someone who can turn you into a small pile of ashes,” Magnus answers and shudders, understanding how ominous it sounds. He looks back at Alec and Clary, ready to apologize. But Clary smiles with relief and a bit guilty. And in Alec’s eyes, he sees so much adoration and admiration that Magnus’s face, neck, shoulders, and even other parts of his body flush. It is a pity that he will never see this again.

“I’ll explain first, then your questions. Is that clear?”

Magnus has waited for nods and then moves three of them to the sofa using magic. 

“That day, Biscuit, Clary from another dimension was in your body. Your body, Jace, was also controlled by another Jace. They are both Shadowhunters. There have been no Shadowhunters in our universe for a long time. But you are their descendants. Another Clary wanted to find her mom because Valentine had stolen her. Yes, Biscuit, in that universe, your father is a completely different person. He desperately wants power and destroys all the Downworlders, particularly vampires, werewolves, faeries, and warlocks. This is the entire history in short.”

“What about more details?” Alec asks, but Magnus has been drained.

“If you want more detail, here they are. All of you have to promise me to keep your mouths shut, and then you will go home.”

“So I’m not crazy,” Clary is happy, and Magnus smiles.

“Come on, Biscuit. Of course not. You gave me my magic back, I mean, that Clary.”

“Wait,” Jace interrupts the conversation. “Why did that Clary come to you?”

“Because I’m a warlock, and she needed a portal. Such a portal is located in the Institute, or rather, it was because I had to destroy it.”

“Why did you do that?” Jace resents, and Magnus lets out a weary sigh.

“So that blondes like you don’t run screaming when they see some small demon.”

“He wasn’t small!”

“Trust me, he was.”

“And how many demons are left?”

“Not a single one in this dimension. That is why it was necessary to destroy any possibility of getting here. That purple pendant was a piece of a portal that had fallen into another dimension from our own. I had to destroy it, too.”

“I told you were a thief,” Jace says, satisfied, and Magnus bows his head dejectedly.

“I didn’t want to lie, but there was no other way. Downworlders live quietly and don’t harm anyone. We don’t need publicity. The demons disappeared long ago, and the Shadowhunters followed them. Later, the faeries hid in the magical forests, and only werewolves, vampires, and warlocks remained. The less people know about us, the better.”

“There are no demons in our world. Why?” Alec joins in, and Magnus looks up.

“About six hundred years ago, we all, Shadowhunters and Downworlders, united and defeated the demons. We sealed all holes so that the creatures of hell could not enter. And we made vows that we would never use summoning rituals again. Since then, the Shadow world has been at peace.”

“You said,” Alec begins slowly, “we made vows.”

“I said we because I also took part in that battle. Warlocks are immortal, Alexander, as are faeries and vampires. I am eight hundred years old.”

“Holy shit!” Jace exclaims and then looks at Alec, who has his head down. A second to think, and Jace stands up. “We’ll go,” he nods to Magnus and holds out his hand to Clary. “I’m sorry I attack you without understanding, Magnus. It’s cause I really love my girlfriend. Alec, see you later.”

Jace waves to his friend and leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.

“You can leave too, Alec,” Magnus offers, smiling sadly, and Alec looks at him closely.

“I can,” he agrees and then adds. “But I don’t want to.”


	6. The sixth shirt

A playful sunbeam draws a narrow light line from one man to another, but Magnus doesn’t want to notice all its efforts. He looks into the past, and the cold paralyzes his magic, building a wall of loneliness between its captive and the world.

“I’m not going anywhere, Magnus.”

“Why?”

“Jace threw you to the floor. You might have hurt yourself. Come to me.”

“And all that interests you right now,” Magnus grins, “is possible bruises and abrasions?”

“No, I’m just trying to find a way to tell you that nothing has changed.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you will die, while I will be living haven’t aged a single day?”

“If people paid attention to such things, they would spend their whole lives alone. I have friends who serve in the army, work in the police, in the fire department. Each day may be the last for them, but they do not give up their happiness just because their loved ones will continue to live on. And their partners think the same. Our situation is a little different, but none of us can change who he is. So is it really worth bothering with unnecessary doubts? The only thing that scares me is your experience. You must be bored with me.”

“Are you kidding, Alexander?” Magnus looks at Alec in surprise. “I’ve always considered myself a two-bit interlocutor and an uninteresting person.”

“Well, let’s check this,” Alec smiles. “For example, who is your father?”

“Prince of Hell Asmodeus,” Magnus whispers, and Alec shakes his head in understanding.

“Hm, you’re right, nothing is interesting about it. My father, Robert, is an accountant. It sounds exhilarating and intriguing.”

“Alec,” Magnus says reproachfully to his boyfriend.

“What? You don’t even know who you really are. And about father’s theme. What do you mean your father is a Prince of Hell?”

“All warlocks are half-humans, Alec. I’m not an exception. The demon’s blood flows through my veins, just as the blood of angels flows in yours.”

“Were you born in ... Hell?”

“No, I was born in this dimension. My mother was a mortal Indonesian woman who could not stand that her son was a half-demon, so she killed herself. But this is a long, sad story. Now it’s not the time to tell it. Maybe later. One day my true father found me. Asmodeus hurt me a lot. He almost burned out my soul. I undid his obsession; I became a human, despite all his tricks. The last time we met, I turned his magic against him. Now he is locked in Edom forever. He won’t be able to return here, never again. Neither he nor the other demons.”

“How long has it been?”

“Six hundred years ago. The great battle.”

“Just like in The Lord of the Rings.”

Alec’s eyes light up, and he tries to get comfortable to listen to the beautiful legend, but Magnus shakes his head.

“Any battle is the death of your friends, Alexander. Warlock’s life is long, but their memory is remarkable. There is nothing good in wars, just as there is nothing good in any violence. The only blessing of that battle was the union of such different races. The last battle where the Shadowhunters fought alongside the Downworlders. We won because we were together. But how many we buried that day. Their shadows are every day near, every night nigh. We live our lives for them and keep their images in our memories.”

Magnus flinches when Alec gets close and gently hugs him, trying to protect him from the ghosts of the past that are circling around.

“Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The longer you live, the more burden you bring with you in every new day.”

“I can share your burden with you, Magnus.”

“You can,” Magnus agrees, then adds. “But I don’t want to.”

“Do you still want to break up?” Alec pauses, waiting for an answer.

“Well,” Magnus says while his fingertips run over Alec’s face softly, “I’ve already learned that I can’t get rid of you so easily. I’m just not ready to tell you about my past right now. It’s hard. I got my magic back, and you appeared in my life. Sometimes it seems to me that all of this is too much, but I don’t want another life.”

Alec exhales and tilts his head, smiling, when fluttering movements of nimble fingers titillate his cheek, run down to the back of his head, carefully touching the edge of the hair. Alec reaches for Magnus’s lips but notices a small vertical line between his eyebrows.

“What happened, Magnus?”

But instead of answering, Magnus pulls away and tries to look behind Alec.

“Is there something on my back? On the back of my head?” Alec tries to stay calm, but Magnus’s gaze grows darker with every second.

“Jace and I ruined one more of your shirt,” he admits quietly, biting his bottom lip. “Sorry?”

“Collar,” Alec realizes and raises his hand to the neck, feeling a harsh edge with threads sticking out.

“I could fix it, but Jace took the collar with him, so ... Can I give you a T-shirt?”

“You won’t get off so easy this time, Magnus. You’ve seen me shirtless too often. We have to even the score.”

Alec reaches for the plain T-shirt, brushing the warm skin, but Magnus jerks as though a static charge has suddenly left him and then reels back.

“It’s all right. Sorry if I rushed. Magnus?”

“It’s not that,” Magnus lowers his head, afraid to say more, but Alec understands.

“If you don’t want to talk, we won’t.”

The long fingers of one hand stroke the hair while the other hand pats the back. Alec waits, and Magnus decides.

“All warlocks have demon’s marks, Alexander.”

“Like birthmarks or tattoos?”

“No,” Magnus pauses, knowing what happens next. “These are deformities, mutations caused by our unnatural origins.”

Magnus exhales, pulls off his baggy T-shirt in one motion, and closes his eyes.

“I agree,” Alec says, his voice getting hoarse. “Such shape cannot be achieved without magic.”

Magnus opens one eye and then laughs, seeing an almost childish delight in the hazel eyes.

“What else did I expect from you?”

He comes up and takes a large hand, pressing it over his abs.

“Don’t you notice anything?”

“Do you have eight-pack abs instead of six? Do I guess?”

“Take off your shirt, Alexander,” Magnus commands, and Alec obeys with alacrity.

A snap of his fingers places a big mirror in front of them, and Alec stares at the reflection of two handsome, half-naked men. Magnus’s palm slides over the torso, making Alec tense the muscles. A magnificent picture where a swarthy hand contrasts with fair skin, and vice versa. They are perfect to each other, and the smoothness of the skin under the fingers proves this. Magnus moves his hand lower, and Alec holds the groan. Thin fingers draw the round of the navel, and the right thought burns the heart. The look becomes more meaningful, but Alec is afraid of doing something wrong.

“May I?”

Magnus nods and then gasps as Alec kneels in front of him.

“What are you doing, Alexander?”

“You let me take a closer look,” Alec says and then continues with a bland smile. “It’s so unusual. But I don’t understand why you called it ugly. In my opinion, it’s beautiful.”

“There is something else. Stand up, please. May I ask you not to hide your feelings? Don’t be afraid to offend me. Can you promise me?”

Alec feels the tension coming from Magnus, feels the fear that fills the air.

“Scars, extra limbs, growths,” one assumption replaces another in the head, but the reality is not so prosaic. Magnus lets the glamour fall, and two lava lakes are in front of Alec’s face.

The throat goes dry, and it is impossible to look away. The comparison appears in the brain, and things are starting to make sense. Alec puts his hands on the cheeks, and his whisper, like a breath of the ocean, kisses the lips.

“So that’s how real you are. A warlock with dragon eyes. The most captivating creature I’ve seen.”

Magnus flinches and tries to pull away, but Alec doesn’t let him do it.

“Magnus, don’t believe anyone who says it’s ugly. Your eyes are you. Beautiful, dangerous, and fascinating.”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, very much. Did Shadowhunters have some mutation?”

“They were stronger, faster, and more hardy than ordinary people. And they also applied runes on their skin. I can show you a couple of books, but the major library is in your Institute if it hasn’t been destroyed.”

“Yeah,” Alec says slowly, continuing to admire the man in his arms.

“I think it’s time for you to go home, Alexander. I will understand if you need time to accept the truth. I’ll wait.”

“So you won’t let me stay with you?”

“No, Alec. I speak from experience. Solitude is your best guide. I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, then can you give me one more T-shirt?”

“Why?” Magnus smiles sincerely, and Alec points to a new design decision from the Jace&Magnus fashion team.

“Have I to wander the streets looking like that?”

“Oh, that,” Magnus says with giggling. “Of course not.”

A snap of his fingers and the baggy T-shirt hides the muscular body from Alec’s gaze. A sly smile from Magnus accompanies his hands’ circular motion, and Alec is pulled into a portal. And a second later, he is near the door of the block where his apartment is located.

“I think you can handle this on your own,” Magnus winks and returns the shirt in one graceful movement. “Goodbye, Alexander.”

Magnus opens another portal and takes a step, but Alec proves to him how strong the Shadowhunter’s blood, that flowing through his veins, is. Before Magnus walks into the portal, he finds himself in the brawny arms of his boyfriend.

“Goodbye, Magnus. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

A tender, almost chaste kiss, but Magnus blushes like a schoolboy and practically runs away from Alec through the portal, getting under the tight streams of a torrential tropical downpour somewhere on the edge of the world. His magic seems to know better what he needs.

  
***

It seemed quite logical to look for information on Shadowhunters in the abandoned, dusty library of the Institute. But Alec underestimated the size of future research. It’s good when you can call one cute warlock for help. But he is such a book lover that if books were living creatures, Alec would be jealous. So now Alec has several monumental illustrated editions in his hands. They could completely capture the imagination if it were not for Magnus, sitting in a deep armchair directly opposite a large window. On the old glass, a medieval battle scene is depicted. A sight that is worth seeing.

The dim sunlight, shining through the dusty stained-glass windows, mixes transparent colors on dark trousers, paints enigmatic weave on a simple gray shirt, gives broad strokes to muscular forearms, and leaves its colored kisses on the swarthy left cheek. Ancient pages rustle, and the pink tongue runs over the curved lips, leaving a shiny wet trail. Magnus is focused on the book, his eyelashes flutter, causing tiny lights to flash at their tips again and again. The glamour hides his real eyes, but it can’t veil the magic aura that always surrounds the warlock, no matter how he looks, wherever he is. Alec steps softly, afraid to distract him from studying the old book, but Magnus immediately looks up.

“Alexander,” he says, and a timid smile frames the tenderness of his voice while Alec is getting down on the floor.

Magnus puts the heavy folio on a small table beside the chair and leans closer to wipe the dust from Alec’s cheek. And, in this simple gesture, there is so much care and affection that Alec thoughtlessly presses his lips to the graceful wrist, catching the beating of the pulse. A vague feeling leads Magnus, who can’t take his hand away. The second hand’s fingers touch the dark hair, stroke the strands, drowning in their silkiness. Hot breath entwines with rainbow glows, and Magnus, trapped in multicolored lines, surrenders to the man kneeling in front of him.

Past fears give way to the fondness of brief kisses covering sensitive skin, and doubts tearing the soul fall apart in a shiver when the tongue draws mysterious patterns on the neck and then moves to the jawline. A moan settles on dry lips with the anticipation of the pleasure Alec wants to give him, and Magnus loses himself into a kiss that replaces his air. The body in large palms is ready to beg for more because Alec feels its desires too well. The edges of the shirt part, revealing to the sun a new canvas for future paintings. But another artist appropriates the bronze of the skin, which maintains the play of light and shadow. Dark spots of hickeys spread over the golden surface as hoarse groans dance around the chair. These groans allow Alec to pull off the pants and underwear, allow him to touch the aroused flesh, and satisfy the hunger of Magnus’s lust. Long fingers close into a tight ring at the penis, while the tongue adds the salty taste of pre-ejaculate to the picture of color and sound.

Alec looks up and freezes, mesmerized by the pulsing darkness inside the golden flame. And obeying supernatural power, he lets the penis slide deeper into the relaxed throat. And then again and again, the lovers merge with the magic that swirls around them, feel how bright sparks of pleasure are laying on the shoulders.

The rhythm of simple movements beats against the eardrums with seething blood. It follows the thin fingers gripping the sleeve of a shirt and blooms with colored spots on half-closed eyes every time Alec burns sensitive skin with his hot breath. A short cry warns him, and Alec pulls away. A warm hand replaces the mouth and squeezes the moist penis, pushing Magnus into the abyss of pleasure.

Uneven breath, wet strands on the forehead, and bitten lips pull Alec into a whirl of images, and his palm needs a few painful movements for a brief orgasm to go through Alec’s aching body.

“Sorry,” Magnus’s muffled voice contrasts with the thick silence filled with echoes of the emotions, and Alec looks at him. “For the shirt. I’m afraid I can’t fix it.”

Alec looks at himself and whistles. The bright pieces, as if made of glass, decorate the fabric, the buttons have melted, turning into exhibits for the gallery of modern arts. One sleeve has completely disappeared, leaving only a faint glow behind.

“Can you ...?” Alec asks, running his fingers over the soft light that surrounds his arm.

“No. This magic is like glass blowing. Once it freezes, nothing can be fixed. I’ve never been able to control it.”

Magnus is embarrassed and tries to clean himself up but stops, noticing the close look. The big hand gently touches the smooth cheek, and the quiet echoes of awkwardness drown in unreserved admiration.

“Your magic is beautiful, Magnus, as you are.”


	7. The seventh shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy the story. Thank you for reading it, for your kudos and comments.
> 
> I'll be glad if you visit my YouTube channel, where there are short mash-up videos about Malec. The name of the channel is Shadow dreams from the deep night.

“Are you sure, bro? It’s for life.”

Jace looks at his friend doubtfully, but Alec doesn’t hesitate.

“It’s mine, Jace. I saw this rune and realized that it should be on my neck. It’s hard to explain in words cause I feel it. But you have to keep quiet. I’m going to Chicago for two weeks. This is an important big order, and after I am going to rest a little. No one should know about the tattoo, especially Magnus.”

“Speaking of Magnus. How do you deal with it?”

“With what? With his ability to get anything he wants with one snap of fingers, or with the fact that he can clean up with a wave of his hand, or with the possibility to move anywhere in a second? Well, I don’t know. It’s so hard to accept.”

“Stop clowning, Alec. He’s not even human.”

“We too. So what? He’s mine, Jace.”

“Like the rune?”

“You see, you are not as slowpoke as it may seem.”

“Okay, I’m glad you don’t care that your boyfriend is an immortal warlock eight hundred years old.”

“So if you found Clary was a witch, you’d give her up. Am I right?”

“Never. Clary is mine. No matter what happens. And let’s cut such chat, cause the master stares at us suspiciously.”

Jace watches as the humming ink-machine leaves a black mark on clean skin and listens to his body. A pleasant tingling sensation is here and there, and Jace is no longer sure that he has come here for the last time.

***

Magnus stares at the calendar on his phone again, begging himself to stop counting the days until Alec returns. Nothing helps, no cats, no magic, no yoga, no work. Alec calls every evening, telling about what happened to him that day, but, for some reason, he refuses to use the portal. “I’m busy. I’m tired. I have a lot to do,” hears Magnus every time. Magnus could doubt, but the tenderness in his boyfriend’s voice leaves no chance for unnecessary thoughts. So he flicks a glance at the calendar to see how many days are left.

“Three days, and I’ll see him again,” he says to his pets, and Meow purrs in response, while Church lets out his claws. “Meantime, it’s time to work.”

Magnus takes a deep breath, puts his phone on mute, and tidies himself up. Today’s client is the last one for this week. And then there will be more time to practice spells.

The doorbell surprises him a little: it’s too early for the client. But Magnus opens the door and sees a guy holding a nicely packed box.

“A package from Mr. Lightwood,” he informs Magnus, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. “Sign here.”

Magnus nods and tips generously, making the tired guy smile and believe in people.

Satin ribbons fall to the floor because Magnus is no less curious than the cats living with him. The lid flies to the ribbons, and trembling fingers carefully remove the waxed paper, revealing a miracle of deep burgundy under it. A shirt has an unusual shape, with a standing collar and gold-colored buttons running diagonally. It reminds Magnus of the south-eastern tradition. The temptation is too great. So Magnus, without hesitation, lets the cool fabric touch his skin and looks at himself in the mirror, noting how the cuffs, decorated with discreet embroidery, wrap around his wrists as if they were made for this moment. Magnus smiles at his reflection and decides not to take the shirt off. He barely has time to remove the package when the doorbell rings. The new client has arrived.

“Good evening.”

Magnus greets the guest and then stops because a man standing on his doorstep has a big bouquet in his hands. His face is hiding behind the flowers.

“Did you miss me?”

Magnus hears a familiar voice and nods, batting his eyes.

“Do you meet strangers in the new shirt I gifted? You’re lucky. I’m not jealous.”

Alec lowers the bouquet and takes a step forward. His lips brush the velvet cheek’s skin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Chicago?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Alec says and gives the flowers directly into the hands of the confused Magnus. “This is for you. It’s better to put them into water.”

Magnus nods again and walks into the bedroom, clutching the armful of outlandish orchids. He comes to the nightstand, on which an impressive vase stands, when Alec grabs him from behind and hugs him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Magnus leans his head back on Alec’s shoulder and covers his eyes.

“You know, this is new to me.”

“Flowers? Gifts? Surprises? Me?”

“All of this. And speaking of gifts. Thanks. I like this shirt. It’s beautiful, but I didn’t think it would be so comfortable either.”

“So, the sales associate didn’t cheat me. But there is something else I want to show you.”

Alec takes a few steps back, unbuttoning his shirt, and bares a black stroke of the tattoo.

“Turn around,” he asks and bites his lip, waiting for a reaction.

Now his decision doesn’t seem so right anymore. In Chicago, there was time to read the books about Shadowhunters. And the knowledge that his ancestors had been enemies of warlocks and other Downworlders for a long time led to the thought that an innocent trick might look more like a mockery.

Magnus turns around, his hands unclench, and the bouquet flies down, covering the floor with a floral carpet. Alec shifts from one foot to another under the dark eyes, staring at the rune.

“I know I was stupid. I read a little about Shadowhunters, and I understand you might hate to see this. I think I can delete it in a few sessions.”

All excuses fall silent when Magnus leaves his flower pedestal, comes closer, and lays his hand on the chest with a loud beating heart, and then, looking straight into Alec’s eyes, says.

“I really like it, Alexander. And if you don’t mind, I would like you to leave it. My last memory of Shadowhunters is related to their sacrifice, courage, and bravery. Raziel’s children are beautiful creatures, and the runes only emphasize that. This tattoo takes you back to your roots. It is as much a part of you as my eyes. Moreover, it suits you.”

Alec lets out a sigh of relief and smiles when he sees Magnus raising his hand. The thin fingers gently touch the dark lines, and static electric sparks go through their bodies, making them laugh nervously.

“Are you going to ground me again”? Magnus asks, but Alec has another solution.

He picks Magnus up and groans when muscular legs twine around his waist. Soft pads follow simple lines, making the heart skip a beat. Hot lips bear a heat wave when they press to the sensitive neck. The tongue draws the rune’s contour, and a low moan fills the room.

“Magnus, wait,” Alec is almost begging, but his beloved is deaf to any requests. “We have to pause. Otherwise, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Who told you I wanted you to stop?”

Magnus’s fingers tunnel in thick hair, and glamour flies from his eyes in a second. Alec slowly burns in the fiery lava lakes, drowns in a deep kiss, and gasps from the dizzy intimacy. He puts his lover down on the cool sheets, laying on top of Magnus. A stiff collar guards the golden skin, and Alec engages in an unequal battle with numerous small buttons. And then his hands freeze and a sly grin lifts the corners of his plump lips.

“No, Alexander!”

A short cry from Magnus and the crack of buttons, tearing from the shirt with one sharp move, sounds simultaneous. Alec lowers, and Magnus licks his lips when a strong baritone near his ear announces the score:

“Six to one, Magnus.”

Magnus tries to come up with an answer, but the palms touching the nipples and then trapping them with the fingers have no mercy. Alec smiles and leans closer, and Magnus draws into another kiss but then startles as cool air contacts with his hot skin. Somehow, all their clothes disappear, and the panic in golden eyes tells Alec better than any words that Magnus didn’t do it on purpose.

“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus whispers, trying to get it all back, but Alec catches his arms and puts them behind his head.

“You can’t be so impatient, Magnus. That’s punishable.”

Alec is over him, leaning on the hands. His penis runs over Magnus’s stomach, leaving a shiny mark on the bronze skin.

“But not today,” he adds. “Today, I want you too much. Do you have some lube?”

“Yes.”

The trembling fingers don’t snap right the first time. But when they get it, Alec only shakes his head, seeing a silver bottle on the bed and a big box of condoms, very big.

“I like the way you think.”

Magnus blushes, and the ambiguous phrase rolls off his tongue.

“I am really good at drawing runes, especially some of them. Like the Endurance rune,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Well,” Alec says, and his long fingers slide over the chest muscles, down to the groin. “It’s a pity the warlocks can’t use it.”

Alec smears the clear lubricant across his large palms and pulls Magnus closer, putting the long feet with pedicured toenails on the shoulders. The air becomes hotter, and a low cry marks the beginning of sweet torture. What Alec does destroys the meanings of every rune and every spell. Magnus feels any movement so keenly: how long fingers open him up, how they stroke the smooth walls, touching the prostate. Three fingers cause mild discomfort, but the tongue wrapping around the glans penis and spiraling downward distracts from the pain.

“Alec,” Magnus whimpers as the pad of the middle finger presses on his prostate again, sending a hot wave of pleasure through his body.

Alec raises his head, looking into his beloved face, and slowly removes his fingers, making Magnus feel the void.

“Do you want to roll over?” Alec offers, although he already knows the answer.

Magnus shakes his head, and Alec quickly puts the condom on, using more lubricant after this. Sturdy legs wrap around his lower back, and Magnus holds his breath when he feels a little pressure.

“Use the magic,” Alec asks, but Magnus pulls him closer, and Alec slowly penetrates inside the hot, pliable body.

He freezes while Magnus catches his breath. And then Alec groans when a barely audible “Move” reaches his ears. The first thrust to try and a small bright red flower appears in the black hair straggled untidily over the pillow. Alec stops breathing, admiring an artwork before him, painted in gold, black and scarlet colors. And when Magnus squeezes his penis, begging to continue, the hips begin to force the pace. Loud moans fill the bedroom, and hundreds of bizarre orchids rise into the air, swirling around the two lovers. Delicate petals glide over bare skin, and a subtle floral scent spreads around, settling on the lips with a spicy sweetness. And in the center of this flower spectacle, Magnus, burning up from the desire. He strains his voice, asking for more from his lover. Insatiable, like an ancient deity, he writhes on sheets damp with sweat, and Alec gives up. He runs his slippery palm up and down the penis, squeezing a little harder. Over and over, until Magnus screams, and his muscles contract as the electrical impulses of pleasure shaking his body. The semen splotches the dark belly, resonating with the color of the milky white orchid petals that slowly fall onto the bed. A heat wave pours over the body, and Alec reaching orgasm, thrusting into the relaxed body beneath him.

“You are so magical and so mine,” Alec whispers to Magnus and tries to reach the paper towels. But a wave of the hand solves all problems, so Alec laughs, relaxing, and lays down next to Magnus on a bed of flowers.

“You spoiled my new favorite shirt,” Magnus mutters, making himself comfortable on Alec’s wide chest.

“That’s why I bought two shirts.”

Alec kisses the black-haired top of the head and hugs Magnus tightly. They fall asleep in close embraces, so no one of them notices how the black rune on the neck flashes blue.

***

“Flexibility.”

Alec smiles, pointing to a rune, and Magnus looks at him questioningly.

“I want to beat you in yoga. And it may be useful for another one.”

“You are a fraud, Alexander.”

“Well. Maybe, this one,” Alec suggests, and again Magnus doesn’t catch the motives.

“Fearless? But why?”

“I think I’ll need it because I want to ask you something.”

“You don’t need a rune to ask me, Alexander.”

“I want to introduce you to my parents, Magnus. If you do not mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. I also want to meet them. I hope they are not mad at me about your tattoos.”

“Well, Jace is keeping up with me. And it seemed they accepted all our tattoos after you gave me the stylus. Although dad still reprimands Isabelle for the rune of angelic power in an interesting place. But mom admitted that she always wanted to get a tattoo. So I think they will love you. Angels, Magnus, it’s impossible not to love you.”

“Then choose another rune, and we will apply it.”

“Fearless,” Alec says stubbornly, pursing his lips.

“But why, my love?”

“I’ll definitely need it, Magnus,” Alec says, clutching a small velvet box in his pants pocket.


End file.
